


Everything is going to be alright, my darling

by shanimalew



Series: Fictober 2020 [7]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, I promise, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Other, Sad with a Happy Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanimalew/pseuds/shanimalew
Summary: Gaby’s life flashes right in front of her as she watches Napoleon fall off of the tower. She is paralysed, as she sees his small distant figure fall, as if it wasn’t really happening.It couldn’t be really happening.It just couldn’t.[Fictober 2020, Day 7]
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller
Series: Fictober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947211
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Everything is going to be alright, my darling

**_Prompt 7 Tower_ **

Gaby’s life flashes right in front of her as she watches Napoleon fall off of the tower. She is paralysed as she sees his small distant figure fall, as if it wasn’t really happening.

It couldn’t be happening.

It just couldn’t.

She wants to scream, to ask no one, because she doesn’t know where Illya is, what the fuck is happening. Why was Napoleon on the tower when he was supposed to be somewhere else?  It was Illya’s spot, Illya was supposed to be there. Which immediately raises the question of where Illya is and how he is.

She has a theory, one she doesn’t like, not one bit.

Because Napoleon is fine and Illya is fine as well. They have to be fine. Otherwise it would mean they are dead, which they can’t be.

She immediately gets up from the floor. She doesn’t remember much, but the man she was fighting with must have hit her pretty hard, knocking her out for God knows how long.

_ Everything could have happened while she was out _

She shakes away that thought and looks around.  There’s the body of the man who hit her lying lifeless next to her, she jumps away surprised. 

_ Well, somebody took care of that _

It seems like the area is clear, maybe too clear. She can’t hear anything, not even the voices of her companions. She feels her body shiver, but she doesn’t give in to the thoughts.

They are alive, both of them, otherwise she will kill them herself.

She walks towards the tower, keen on investigating what has happened while she was out. When she opens the door she sees more dead bodies, but no one is Illya's so she lets out a sigh of relief. 

The first floor is clear, at least. So she decides to slowly go up until she arrives at the top.

_ Where Napoleon was thrown off _

The thought reminds her that maybe at least one enemy is alive, so she steals a gun from one of the dead bodies on the ground before slowly climbing the stairs.

She barely manages to arrive on the second floor when she hears loud thumping above her. She removes the safety from the gun, pointing at the stairs, and waits. The noises become louder, as her heart beats faster and faster, almost covering the sounds around her.

She sees a figure run, but he’s gone as soon as he passes next to her, not even acknowledging her presence. She uncertainly lowers the gun, confused by the encounter. She returns to the inspection of the second floor, finding nothing.

However, before she can go to the top she hears someone, probably the man running through the stairs from before, scream. 

“Solo!” 

She goes by the window to watch, seeing the man sprint towards the sea. Only then she realises that man is Illya, his face too covered in blood and bruises to be recognizable.

She sprints down the stairs, or well, she tries, feeling her legs weak. A dull pain in her left leg.

When she exits the tower she sees Illya jump into the water.

“Illya!” she screams, throat aching. She immediately rushes to where Illya was, ignoring the increasing pain in various parts of her body.

She arrives at the border of the cement structure, looking down at the water. There are some rocks but not enough to hurt, to kill. Or at least that’s what she thinks. It’s a small glimmer of hope, she knows it. Napoleon could have been killed before being thrown off, or he could have hit one of the rocks in the wrong way. But still, she looks at the water and hopes.

She sees Illya resurface a couple of moments after, and she lets out a sigh. He is dragging Napoleon’s body, struggling to keep both of them afloat.

She wants to do something, anything, but her body is paralysed for the second time that day.

She hates it. Hates that she isn’t of use in these situations, still too inexperienced to know what to do to when one of her partners is unconscious and too scared of losing one of them to think clearly.

Illya drops Napoleon on the group and immediately kneels near him. It’s a weird contrast, Illya’s panicky movements and Napoleon’s calm expression.

_ He looks peaceful _

“Is he breathing?” she murmurs, fists clenching, unsure of what to do his her hands. She settles to hug her torso. She feels powerless, and she hates it.

“Barely” he replies, before starting to do a cardiac massage on Napoleon.

He is a machine, alternating between pressing on Napoleon’s chest and breathing in his mouth. Briefly, Gaby thinks she should ask him to teach her when they are not dying, but that is the only rational thought her mind creates before going blank once again. A litany of ‘Don’t die don’t die don’t die’ playing in a loop inside her head. 

She hugs herself tighter, watching Illya repeat the manoeuvre over and over. She doesn’t know what is the appropriate time to stop, after how many fake kisses and pressings one should give up and start calling the ambulance to carry away the body, and she thinks Illya doesn’t know either, or better, doesn’t want to.

“Illya” she whispers, feeling her voice thickening, “Illya, please stop”

“No. He can’t die” he says, words following the rhythm of his hands.

A sob escapes Gaby’s lips and she immediately covers her mouth, as tears start falling. The realisation that she will not hear Napoleon’s laughter starts to settle in and the tears start falling copiously. Her knees tremble and she falls next to the body, now fully sobbing.

Illya spares her a concerned glance but immediately returns to his task, repeating the manoeuvres over and over again. Gaby would smack him if she had the strength to do something other than crying.

Before she has the time to call Illya’s name again, she hears coughing. She opens her eyes wide, looking down at Napoleon. Illya has the same expression on, hands clinging onto Napoleon’s suit as the man coughs.

“Danke Gott” she murmurs before she starts laughing to herself, tears streaming down her face.

Napoleon sits down, eyes wide and still coughing, looking between the two of them.

Gaby thinks they are quite the comedic sight, Illya and her. She keeps laughing and crying simultaneously while Illya is staring at Napoleon with a shocked expression.

“That was quite the jump, wasn’t it?” Napoleon says, voice hoarse and his usual smirk on.

That sentence makes Gaby laugh even more, as she grabs the back of Napoleon’s head and pushes him into a kiss.

“We are just happy you’re okay, you scared us for a moment” she says against his lips.

Illya, instead, as soon as he hears Napoleons’ words collapses on the man’s legs, face hidden and takes deep breaths.

“You okay, Peril?” Napoleon asks.

“Do not do that again. Never” the Russian murmurs, face still hidden.

Napoleon’s hand starts playing with the hair at the base of Illya’s neck, feeling the man slightly relax under him.

“I have no intention of dying in the near future, I assure you” he says smiling slightly.

Only at those words, Illya raises himself from the half-seated half-lying position he was in, looking straight at Napoleon, eyes red and full of tears.

Napoleon caresses his face, before leaving a small kiss on his lips.

“Darling, don’t get offended, but you look absolutely horrible” He says, enjoying how Illya’s eyes light up just a little, mouth curving slightly.

And indeed, Gaby notices, Illya’s face is almost completely swollen, dried blood under his nose and at both corners of his mouth and a bloodshot eye.

“Almost got beaten to death” Illya replies, mouth still forming a small smile.

Gaby wants to smack him for being so reckless, but her legs hurt too much for her to raise herself. In a brief moment of clarity, she looks down at herself.

“I’m bleeding” she states, touching the hem of her dress, soaked in blood. 

Both men look down at her leg.

“Indeed you are”

“We should go to hospital, you two almost died” Illya says, getting up. 

He extends his hand to help Napoleon up, before going over to Gaby and swiping her off the floor, carrying her bridal style.

“Oh, we almost died? What about you, sir?” Napoleon says, limping next to Illya, as they reach their car.

“Different. I am stronger”

“Your face says something different”

Gaby just looks at her men bicker, the adrenalin finally wearing off, leaving her achy and tired. So damn tired.

“I’m going to ask Waverly to give us a vacation, somewhere tropical. We deserve it” she says, head resting on Illya’s shoulder.

“Damn right we do” Napoleon replies, while Illya lets out a laugh.

As Napoleon continues talking, proposing various potential destinations, Gaby allows herself to close her eyes, relaxing in Illya’s arms. 

She dreams of beaches, of her boys’ laughter. And finally, everything is alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, leave comments and kudos if you liked! Love to hear what you think <3


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